An Empty Bed
by Nightminds
Summary: He woke up alone. He wondered when that became unusual.
1. Chapter 1

_This story began with a prompt: "I woke up alone." And it spawned this story. I'm not a big FFN poster, but if people are interested, I will clean up the next parts of the story and post that as well._

I woke up alone this morning.

Normally, that wouldn't be so unusual. After all, most days, I go to bed alone, so it's probably best that I wake up alone.

Last night was different. When I closed my eyes last night, she was in bed with me. At least, I think she was in bed with me. I briefly wonder if it had all been a dream, but her side of the bed definitely looks like it has been slept in.

I wonder when it became her side of the bed. Perhaps it's best to not dwell on that. Regardless of who it belongs to, the spot is currently empty.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Things took a bit of a weird turn last night. I could blame the tequila shots, but my mind was clear when I kissed her. Or maybe she kissed me. That part's a little bit fuzzy, but in a good sort of way that makes me roll over and bury my face in her pillow, just to see if I can smell her perfume.

I don't think anyone would argue that the potential has been there for a long time. I think we knew it, too. I don't want to say that I was being unfaithful to any of the other women I was dating, but if I'm honest with myself, she was always more important than any of them. I told myself that's what friendship was all about. Bro's before Ho's and all that. But that didn't explain why I got jealous anytime she went on a date or mentioned a man that I didn't know. Not that I would ever admit it.

Really, it's probably pretty impressive that we held out as long as we did. I'm pretty sure that everyone thinks we've been sleeping together for a long time. Of course, if you use the word literally, we have been. I'm not sure when it became a routine, but I still blame her. One night, she convinced me to go on a run with her after work. It had been a stressful day, and it sounded like a good idea at the time. Of course, I forgot that she runs five miles every morning just for fun. I thought my feet were going to fall off. She laughed, but by the time we made it back to my place, I had convinced her that I deserved pizza and beer. We ended up popping in a movie, and by the time it was over, it was pouring out and she was a bit too tipsy to safely drive home.

Sure, it would have made more sense for one of us to sleep on the couch, but we somehow both ended up in my bed. And a trend was started.

Thursday nights became our nights. Running, dinner, a late movie, and then spending the night. Sometimes at her place, sometimes at mine, but we always ended up in the same bed. And it felt strangely normal. She'll never admit it, but she likes to snuggle when she sleeps. I don't mind.

Last night was different. A rare Saturday in the office led to a couple of rounds of drinks at the bar, which somehow led to four of us doing shots. We were crammed into a crowded booth, but I wasn't about to complain about her leg pressed against mine or the fact that to fit comfortably, my arm had to rest on the back of the booth behind her. And so what if I occasionally twisted a piece of her hair around my fingers? I'm known for my ability to fidget. She didn't threaten me, she she clearly didn't mind.

As the others headed out, I walked to the bar to settle our tab and she lingered, waiting for me. As I rested my forearms on the bar, waiting for the bartender to return with my credit card, she leaned in next to me, her back against the bar, her arm brushing against mine. She casually scanned the crowd and then looked at me with a smile. I smiled back. She opened her mouth to say something, but was preempted by the bartender returning with the receipt for me to sign. I scribbled something on the line, leaving what was very likely a preposterously large tip, and turn back to Ziva.

"Ready?" I asked.

She nodded and let me lead the way out of the bar. The crowd had picked up, and while she's an expert at weaving through people, I tend to get left behind when she does that. It's easier if I lead the way. Conveniently, it's also easier if I hold her hand while I do so. Not that I mind, of course. It might be the only reason I enjoy crowded bars, in fact. We make it outside and she pushes her hair out of her face with her free hand. I wasn't quite ready to let her hand go, so I made a quick decision. I gestured down the street. "My place is close, if you don't want to bother with the Metro or a cab," I suggested casually, the invitation to spend the night left unspoken.

She appeared to ponder this for a moment and then nodded in agreement. "That sounds nice. Perhaps we could finish the movie we both slept through the other night."

"Hey, speak for yourself," I countered, as we began the walk. "I saw the whole thing. You were the one who spent the evening in dreamland."

She laughed, the sound echoing on the quiet street. "Tony, you were snoring!"

"Hate to tell you," I replied, grinning at her. "But that was all you. I don't know how you ever managed to stay hidden during your crazy undercover Mossad days. That snoring would wake the dead!"

She turned to me with a slightly evil smile. "Maybe I simply took care of anyone who noticed."

In past years, I might have been concerned by this sort of statement, but things between us have changed. Sure, she could kill me with a paperclip. But I trusted she wouldn't. At least, probably not. "Right," I responded. "I always forget. Don't antagonize the assassin."

She replied with a laugh and wrapped her arm around mine, huddling against me in the cool evening chill.

It wasn't long before we were inside my apartment. And then the night took an interesting turn.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for all the reviews! It's nice to know someone is reading. I have a few half-started fics that I like much more than this one, which I should also get working on. I think there's probably only one more short chapter after this one. Enjoy!  
_

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She had made herself at home in my apartment long ago, so she is almost as comfortable here as I am. Not that she's ever shown any discomfort anywhere she's been. But I would like to think she's truly comfortable here. I hope she is. When we walked in the door, she immediately walked towards the kitchen. As she let go of my arm, I felt a strange sense of loss.

"I will get us some water," she called over her shoulder.

"That's a good idea," I replied. "How did we let Abby talk us into so many shots?" I continue as I quickly skim through my movies, my voice raised so she can hear me in the kitchen.

"Because you wanted to see McGee get tipsy," she replied, her voice muffled by distance. "And no one is allowed to tell Abby no."

"Oh, right," I replied, a smile spreading across my face. I make a decision and pull a movie off the shelf and toss it on the couch. "You think Abby got him home okay?" I asked as I started toward the kitchen.

"I am sure that she did," she replied simply.

"Abby does have experience with McGiggles when he drinks," I commented. I opened my mouth to continue as I walked into the kitchen... and collided with her, the very full glasses of water in her hands splashing all over the both of us. I heard her sharp intake of breath and she looked up at me. The surprise in her eyes gave way to mirth and she started laughing. I pulled my now wet shirt away from my skin and grinned back at her.

"I'm glad you weren't in here making coffee," I say with a laugh.

She set the now half-full glasses on the counter and shook the water off her hands, spraying me with droplets. I flicked water back at her and watched the water dripping off the ends of the curls framing her face. She took a step towards me, then stopped and looked down at the floor. "We should clean this up," she said, reaching back to grab a towel.

"Why?" I asked, as she turned back to me, the towel in her hands. "It's just water. It'll dry."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, probably a silent comment on my housekeeping skills. "It is your kitchen," she replied with a shrug. She used the towel to wipe the water off of her arms and then stepped towards me, careful to avoid slipping in the water. She gently ran the towel down my right arm, then my left, wiping away the drops of water that remained. She dabbed the towel against my chest and grinned up at me. "I think you might need a new shirt," she said. "Or will that dry too?"

"Well, it will," I admitted. "Not sure I want to wear it while it dries though. Why," I asked, leering at her. "Are you trying to get me out of my clothes?"

She shrugged. "Perhaps I am," she replied casually as she reached up to dab the towel against my neck. I closed my eyes as she slid the towel down toward my chest, gently dabbing against the bare skin revealed by my slightly unbuttoned shirt. I reached for her and carefully placed my hands on her hips. Clearly, this was the wrong move, as my touch startled her and she pulled back. Just as quickly as it had started, the mood changed again.

She tossed the towel on the counter behind her, refusing to look me in the eye. "I will go find the movie on your shelf," she said as if nothing had happened. She quickly brushed past me, leaving me standing in a puddle of water in the middle of my kitchen.

In a split second, I made my decision. We had danced around this for too long, and I, for one, was tired of the dance. I quickly spun around and grabbed her arm, pulling her toward me. Her eyes widened, and I could see the question forming on her lips, but I didn't give her a chance to speak. Pulling her body flush against mine, I leaned down and pressed my lips against hers. She responded almost immediately, her body sinking against mine as her lips parted. A small sigh escaped as she lifted her hand to my face, gently caressing my chin. I kissed her like I had wanted to kiss her for years, they way I kissed her while we were undercover. I let go of her arm and thrust my hands into her hair, cupping her head as I plundered her mouth. After a minute or more, I pulled back to look in her eyes and noticed that her hands were tightly fisted in the sides of my shirt.

"I feel like I should say something here," I said to her, well aware of the goofy smile on my face.

"Because that is what happens in your movies?" she asked, feigning innocence as she released my shirt and slid her hands around my back and into the pockets of my jeans.

"No. Well, yes," I admitted. "I just..."

She cut me off by surging upward to kiss me again, more forcefully this time. There would be time for talking later. She slid her hands around to my front pockets, and, hooking her fingers into my pockets, pulled me back towards the bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

I'm sure it will come as no surprise to anyone that she is an absolute firecracker in bed. And I am not complaining.

We didn't make it to the bedroom right away. We actually only made it to the hallway at first. She stopped me and grasped the collar of my shirt, pressing me up against the wall. I wrapped my hands around her waist, feeling the taut muscles dancing beneath my hands. She pressed against me and began to kiss and nip at my neck, sending shivers through my body.

"What are we doing?" I asked breathlessly. I wondered where this was going and if perhaps this was something that should be talked about.

She removed her lips from my neck and began to unbutton my shirt. "It has been that long for you that you need an explanation?" she asked as she pressed a kiss against the center of my chest. It was a very tender move, much different from her aggressive attack on my lips.

"No, I just... Oh God..." I trailed off as her hands began to work on my belt. I grabbed her by the hand and pulled her back to my bedroom. Once there, I spun around and thrust my hands into her hair, cupping her head as I began to kiss her. She finished unbuttoning my shirt and gently pushed it off my shoulders. She ran her fingers down my bare chest and I reluctantly released her lips. "You have an unfair advantage here," I commented as I grasped the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head. She grinned like the Cheshire Cat as I stared at her. She was wearing a lacy, emerald green demi-cup bra, giving her the perfect amount of cleavage. I gently ran a finger along the edge of the bra cup.

"Is this a matching set?" I ask, finally looking her in the eyes.

"One way to find out," she teased.

I reached for the fastening of her pants and she started to laugh. "Shoes first," she explained.

I pressed her backwards into the bed so she is forced to sit. I kneeled and quickly pulled off her shoes, and while I was down there, took care of my own as well. Nothing like getting tangled in your own pants to ruin the mood. I stood back up and leaned over her, kissing her gently and pressing her back onto the bed.

"Now, about that matching set..."

I am just getting to the best part of the memory when I hear my front door open and close. A moment later, she walks into my bedroom. She is wearing her running gear - a pair of tiny black shorts and a long sleeved green shirt. She must have kicked her shoes off at the door, because only her socks remain on her feet. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail and the short curls that have fallen loose around her face are damp with sweat. Her face is still flushed and I can't keep my eyes off of her. Then I realize what she's carrying.

"You stopped for breakfast?" She is holding a cardboard coffee tray with two cups of coffee (well, likely a cup of coffee for me and a cup of tea for her) and a paper bag from the deli around the corner.

She sits down next to me on the bed and hands me the paper bag, which I eagerly open to peek inside. "Of course. I did not expect you to have any food in your kitchen."

"That's a good point," I agree as she hands me the cup of steaming coffee. As soon as I wrap my hands around the paper cup, she reaches out and grabs the paper bag from me.

"Hey!" I cry indignantly.

"It is not all for you, Tony," she says with a smile as she tucks her legs up under her. She reaches into the bag and pulls out a breakfast sandwich wrapped in waxed paper and hands it to me before pulling out a blueberry muffin for herself.

"Wow, breakfast in bed," I say as I unwrap the sandwich. "I must have done something right last night."

She sets her muffin on the bed next to me, freeing up her hand so she can slug me in the shoulder. "The proper response is 'Thank you.'"

"Mrrf moo," I respond around a mouthful of sandwich. She looks at me and raises an eyebrow. I swallow my mouthful and smile at her. "Thank you for breakfast, Ziva," I say as sincerely as possible, leaning in to kiss her neck just below her ear. "Mmm, sweaty," I joke as I lick my lips.

"If you are good, I may let you help me shower after we eat," she responds innocently, popping a piece of muffin into her mouth.

"From now on, I am on my best behavior," I respond with a leer.

"We shall see about that," she grins back.

As I take another bite out of my sandwich, I consider pinching myself. Breakfast in bed with Ziva. This is not where I thought we would end up. Of course, at some point we're probably going to have to talk about it. But for now, I'm just going to enjoy the moment and hope for many more such moments in the future.


End file.
